Inbetween Days
by Irken Gir
Summary: The Gerudo are enthralled when Ganon is released from the Sacred Realm and take his place as their king once more. Gerudo-centric: a look into their culture
1. Other Realm

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Disclaimer: If I owned Legend of Zelda, Phantom Ganon would not have been harder to beat than the real thing.

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Author's Notes: Oddly enough, this popped up in my head in the form of plot bunnies. I was looking through some pictures of Ganon and it started eating my brain. But I'm pleased with the results of said plot bunnies, so it's okay. Or something. I'm not so pleased with the ending, as it seems a little weak, but the world itself is something I'm proud of.

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Inbetween Days: Other Realm

Phantom Ganon, he had been called. His master created him for one purpose, but he had failed. Deemed unworthy of any more of the Dark King's effort, he had been banished to another realm.

The creatures that lived here were vicious things, and he had nearly "died" (because, indeed, a being created of magic and blood was hardly alive) many times in the beginning. He called it the beginning because Time did not flow through this realm—or, if it did, it was impossible to tell.

It was forever dark here, with thick, gray clouds blocking out the dull sun and the sky, which was such a shade of green Phantom Ganon thought of his master upon catching a glimpse of it. The ground was always wet, stinking, and muddy. Few plants grew from this mud, but the ones that did showed no signs of life. Only the beasts thrived here.

His horse had perished, but he still had his long staff, and its three wicked blades were as sharp as always. If he coated these blades in the mud that had stained his body and dulled his sunken, fiery eyes, it was child's play to kill the other inhabitants of this world. He didn't need to eat, it was true, but occasionally an instinct would drive him to hunt one of the more dangerous things that occupied this hellish place with him.

Phantom Ganon sat now against a trunk of a twisted, graying thing that might have passed as either a tree or the claw of some long-dead dragon, curled forever in its last agony. Phantom Ganon did not care which of the two it was, as long as it didn't begin moving. A small animal slowly waddled its way past, its six large feet sinking far into the mud. Quiet grunts came from the blind, stubby-legged beast as it pulled free from the ground. Little pops and squelches drowned out any other sounds the creature might have made, however, as it pulled free from the mud's suction.

After a moment of watching, Phantom Ganon stood slowly and gripped the fat thing around its middle. It shrieked in fear, bearing its three rows of wicked, razor-sharp teeth, but it settled when Phantom Ganon tapped it between its shoulders. These animals had no eyes, and instead had to rely on smell and touch to hunt—how they did it, he did not know. All he could smell ever was the stink of the mud and rotting bodies littered throughout the realm. The creature in his hands tucked its six legs against its belly, allowing Phantom Ganon to carry it to a large, dry rock. It promptly curled up here, letting out a growl of appreciation as the phantom stroked its rough, brown skin.

This place had been his home for seemingly an eternity, but still he was at its mercy. Creatures still overpowered him and drove him into the trees, and until they began tearing at its yellow-and-brown spotted bark, he couldn't be entirely sure that it wasn't another predator of this world.

Those were, by far, the most dangerous. Phantom Ganon considered them phantoms in their own rights—they took on the shape of the trees and acted as doppelgangers until a naïve animal sought shelter under its branches. Then it would slip a long, powerful tendril out from under its "roots", pull the poor beast under the mud, and devour it. That's why the smell of rotted flesh was so strong here: it was in the ground itself.

This realm stunk of death, and it sickened him.

In the distance, a low rumble sounded from behind one of the few hills in this place, and his little friend on the rock lifted its head. Everything here knew when it would rain from the ominous thunderclaps and wolfo-like howling that always followed. He suspected this rain was occurring somewhere at any given time for all eternity… and that it was the life-source, in some aspects, to the things living here. They would all crawl out from under their mud beds, leave their pray to die even if they were in the middle of tearing into its flesh while it squirmed to free itself, and wait.

The waiting was full of tension and anxiety—Phantom Ganon hated it, but the animals seemed to love it. He stood on one foot, gripping his staff in one hand, and stared in the direction of the thunder. Once the rain began to fall, the beings that lived here would all stretch and reach for its soothing wetness and drink, even as it made their skin smoke and their eyes burn. This, however, seemed to fuel them and rejuvenate them—Phantom Ganon would not be so lucky.

This acid rain had burned him thoroughly and left him shrieking in pain as he ran for cover the first time it had fallen. Finally he had escaped by diving under a large, wide beast that vaguely resembled a dragon in the face, but Lord Jabu-Jabu—the Zora's pathetic deity—in body. Ever since, if he could not find another one of these Jabu-Jabu creatures, he would seek a boulder or an abandoned hole in the mud.

It was hardly dignified for something spawned of the King of Evil, but it was necessary for his survival, although survival seemed to be the last thing on his mind, sometimes. This was not one of them.

Soon the rain fell and the beasts popped up and bounded into the cruel shower, just as they always did. Phantom Ganon's friend snapped at his hand, which had been resting on its back absently, and moved to a higher point on its rock. The phantom slid his staff into its holders on his back and began running, forcing some of his remaining magic to his feet to keep him from sinking into the mud. There was a small clan of Jabu-Jabu beasts living near there, and he was certain that if got to them quickly, he would be able to wait out the rains under their large bellies.

The storm moved more quickly than he had predicted, however. It was soon he felt the bite of the acid on his skin and the long blade-like horns protruding from his forehead. It didn't hurt yet—merely stung a little, much like a young Barinade just learning to wield its stingers.

He began to panic when he couldn't find his Jabu-Jabu family, and cursed himself for using so much magic in the beginning to try to find a way out of this realm. He couldn't fly anymore, but still did have enough to ignite a fire or hover above the mud, just as he was doing now to escape the rain. Suddenly he caught sight of one of his smaller beasts and stumbled in his haste to turn and run towards it. The spatter of rain against the mud was almost deafening now, but he could still hear his ragged breath and hisses of pain as the rain began to increase in intensity.

Just as he despaired that the Jabu-Jabu beast was getting no closer, he tripped over a tiny being laying in the mud and soaking up the rain, sending him skidding through the wet ground a few feet. As the burning spread to his back, he crawled desperately to reach the underside of his beast, and then pulled himself up into a tight ball once its fat belly shaded him.

He supposed one would see panic in his eyes—if, indeed, his eyes portrayed any emotions—but he didn't care. He was safe, and that's all that mattered to him. One of the horns on his forehead poked the Jabu-Jabu's underbelly, making it murr in curiosity and crane its long, thick neck to peer at Phantom Ganon.

They stared at each other for a moment, then the Jabu-Jabu let out a soft thrum in his chest and turned back to the blackening sky. The rain would end soon (as it always did here), but he would remain by the side of his new friend. Blaz, he decided to name him. Cautiously, he reached up to stroke Blaz's underside, and the beast shifted, but not of discomfort.

The rain ended not much long after, but the mud was dried and cracked on Phantom Ganon's body in some places by the time he emerged from under Blaz and pat his leg with something akin to gratefulness. Blaz thrummed at him and his broad, blue tongue slid out from between his lips to lap up some of the excess rain from the ground. The phantom watched for a moment disinterestedly, then turned and looked around him.

The realm looked very much the same as it always did, which didn't surprise him in the least. This happened every once in a while—he couldn't say exactly how often, of course, because Time ignored this place—and it always happened like it did the time before it. Needless to say, aside from being hellish and cruel, this realm was… boring.

Phantom Ganon pat Blaz once more before sauntering off slowly in the opposite direction. It took only a moment to realize the great beast was following him, sniffing at him curiously. He turned to look over his shoulder at him, frowned the best he could, and sighed inwardly at the young Jabu-Jabu beast. It was young, he already knew, but its curiosity betrayed its youth completely.

The phantom didn't have any energy to bother with this beast by shooing it away, so he permitted it to follow him until it grew bored.

What would have been a day later, Blaz still had not grown bored of Phantom Ganon. The magical being still did not shoo him off, having grown a sort of fondness for the Jabu-Jabu creature. Perhaps it was because of the odd, magical aura the being had, that no other creature in this realm had. Magic seemed non-existent here, and it perplexed him to find a young Jabu-Jabu with so much as an inclination to the craft.

But, he supposed, perhaps not. A gentle thing, Blaz was, and he was eager to please. His dull gray eyes held a curiosity in them, almost a sign of intelligence. But Goddesses knew the phantom himself was the only living thing in this forsaken place with any kind of brains, so that notion was a silly one.

A month later (of course, this was the Phantom's speculation, based on how often he slept), Blaz remained his companion, and the Jabu-Jabu's magical abilities still mystified him to some extent. Blaz had never proven able to use magic, but he possessed it nonetheless. It was also then that the acid rain decided to return to their area of living.

It was not the thunder that warned Phantom Ganon this time, but the wolfo-howl and Blaz's attention to the foreboding rain clouds. The sky darkened, and the phantom calmly slipped under his friend's belly, as he had done the last rain. This time, however, Blaz did not settle for standing still and sheltering the smaller being. Slowly, he ambled forward to reach the before him. Already other creatures gathered there, awaiting the burning rain anxiously.

Phantom Ganon snarled in annoyance and swore inwardly before moving after the stupid beast. He thought that if the Jabu-Jabu was planning to abandon him for the rain, he would gut him and leave his steaming innards for the other carnivores to devour as he found himself another "companion."

This didn't seem to be the case, however, as Blaz stopped on the steep hill and turned his gaze not to the sky, but to Phantom Ganon. He seemed to be waiting patiently for his companion to stand with him, his fin-like tail swaying. With a soft thrum, he nudged the phantom with his hard, scaly nose to stand before him and witness the oncoming storm.

Phantom Ganon reached behind him and began to draw his staff, on the verge of taking out his frustration with his Jabu-Jabu on one of the smaller beasts, when he saw what had drawn Blaz to this spot.

Just at the foot of the hill, there seemed to be a tree aflame, and it looked as though it had been ignited not with lightning, which hadn't even reached that area yet, but by a spell. The phantom gripped a small horn on Blaz's muzzle and tugged him along, pulling the beast to the tree. If the acid rain were to fall as he inspected the tree, he would have shelter one way or another. With a quick glance to verify the rain had not gotten so close as to be a threat quite yet, he thrust his hand into the fire and against the tree bark.

The bark crumbled under his palm, but no pain ailed him. Thinking this very curious, he drew his staff and began carving into the charred wood, but only marveled that the metal blades did not so much as redden from the heat, let alone blacken from the smoke. The phantom then moved forward, thrusting the blades into the mud next to him, and began to tear at the bark of this mysterious tree. A few pieces of sharp charcoal poked his fingers, but he didn't heed the small pricks.

The center of the tree, under all of the bark and flames, was untouched. It was the same dark purple of the rest of the trees in this world, and seemed as healthy as something on fire could be. Upon seeing this, he removed his staff from the mud, slipped it thoughtfully into its place on his back, and looked up at Blaz. The Jabu-Jabu murred and brushed his tongue against the tree. More burning wood came off in great chunks, but nothing else happened.

After a moment of examining the trunk, the thunder boomed a short way away, and the phantom stroked Blaz's side thoughtfully. The Jabu-Jabu blinked at him, reaching up to chew on some of the higher branches. The flames danced over his muzzle, but he showed no sign of pain or discomfort. In a moment of silliness, the phantom considered it, he let a portion of his magic flow to the body of the great beast, and Blaz murred loudly, swaying. His magical aura grew in intensity, and he touched his nose to Phantom Ganon's armored chest as their magic mingled. It was then that the Phantom noticed one hand was still in contact with the tree, and it, too, was glowing with an aura.

Intrigued, he poured the mixed magic into the tree, watching for its reactions. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, to his disappointment, the aura dimmed and dissipated slowly. Blaz thrummed and yawned, blowing hot breath onto the tree—the flames did not sway with the movement of air, but the aura returned and began to envelop them.

The air grew hot and smoke stung Phantom Ganon's eyes. He cried out in surprise, but could not move from the burning sensation biting into his flesh and singeing his clothing. Blaz grumbled and pulled free from the phantom's touch, then shrieked in pain and fear; Phantom Ganon forced his eyes open and saw no longer was the ground covered in mud, nor was thunder clapping overhead.

Instead, he stood just outside the meadow of the Forest Temple in Hyrule.


	2. Happiness in Slavery

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Zelda. Then I'd be all sorts of rich, and I could finally get that moose I've been wanting.

**Author's Note: **Meh, this is a little shorter than I'd hoped it would be, but oh well. I'm still pleased with it and I like how the second "scene" worked out. There's some crazy sexual tension/hinting at sexual tension here, but that's good. Sexual tension is fun to write, hurr. There's some plot development, but not a lot as of yet. Yay for plot development.

**Inbetween Days:** Happiness in Slavery

It was amazing how Phantom Ganon had taken Time for granted. He at first was startled by how quickly the days passed, but as his body adjusted to the flow that it had missed so sorely for so long, he found the hours to pass by pleasantly.

And during these pleasant hours, he contemplated how he might have possibly escaped his place of imprisonment—surely the magic Ganon, his master, used to banish him was powerful enough to seal the bridge between the realms thoroughly? Apparently, this was not true. So, Phantom Ganon had settled in the trees surrounding the Forest Temple to examine the Temple daily.

Perplexing was this situation; Hyrule and his previous place of inhabitance must have been connected in some manner—otherwise he wouldn't have been able to reach his destination when Ganon banished him. His first clear choice was the burning tree: he examined this as Blaz roamed the meadows, devouring fauna and a stray fairy or two as they crossed paths, and came to notice that other than the colors, this tree was uncannily similar to the tree that had caught fire in Other Realm, as he decided to call it.

The branches formed a twisted claw akin to Other Realm's trees—all of them looked nearly identical—and its roots were tangled just as the burning tree had been there. It took him a while to come up with an explanation for this, but he was certain he'd come up with the right one: the interconnected realms all have a certain point where there is a small gateway between them—in this case, it was the burning tree. Since it was situated so near to the Forest Temple, the main source of magic in the woods, its magic was heightened and when it caught fire, so did its counterpart. When this bonding between trees occurred, when Phantom Ganon and Blaz combined their magic with the magic of the tree and Hyrule's tree, that portal gripped and pulled them to the other side, thus leaving them in Hyrule.

It was also interesting, Phantom Ganon supposed, that he should end up at the place of his birth. He had been created right inside the Temple, and had never left its walls—yet he still knew this was his birthplace from its magic. Ganon, his master, and the temple both had their own unique magical identities; he supposed he had one as well, but Blaz was the only one who knew it by heart, most likely. Blaz's own magical identity was a little puzzling, but Phantom Ganon attributed this to him being from Other Realm.

Needless to say, Hyrule had never been more beautiful than it was the day the phantom could breathe deeply of its clean air and rejoice in it lacking decay.

* * *

There were many things kept secret within the Gerudo race. Most were secrets only because the rest of Hyrule dared not get close enough to learn of the lesser-known facts about the race of thieves. 

The average Hylian, for example, did not even know of the Hundred Years Law—the law that stated the male born every hundred years was to be crowned the King of the Gerudo. Additionally, only the most learned Zoras knew the details of the beliefs behind this law: as the King lay dying in his deathbed, the Gerudo would perform a ceremony outside of his chambers that would allow his spirit to exit his body safely and possess the next ruler of the race. From the beginning of the Gerudo's time on the earth, the King's spirit had always met its destination and helped a pregnant woman achieve a safe birth to a baby boy.

The archives in the grand library in the Fortress held records of every birth and death of a King—each time the cycle held true; nine months was the timeframe between death and birth.

But even fewer beings knew her clothing portrayed a Gerudo's rank. Only perhaps in diaries of old that had somehow made their way from the Fortress mentioned the uniforms at all: they were so common and recognized to the point where they were mentioned once in the records and then never brought up again. Not even the Gerudo knew _why _the colors meant what they did, but they didn't concern themselves with this too much.

The girls with hair down only to their chins and dressed in ragged, all white clothing were apprentices. They watched the gate to the Haunted Wasteland, cared for the horses, and acted as treasurers for the training ground. They were the youngest of the Gerudo thieves, but held more ranking than the girls who chose to be entertainers or civilians, rather than warriors.

The girls in white would undergo training to become purple-clad guards. They kept their shoulder-length hair tied up and their faces hidden with veils. They also carried long staffs that ended in long blades and wore purple and silver gauntlets. They did nothing more than patrol the grounds of the Fortress, to watch for intruders. Their lives were often very bland, and not many were able to graduate to the next status.

The thieves and warriors themselves dressed in clothing as orange as the sand during sunset. Their faces were uncovered and their hair fell to the middle of their backs when unbound; however, when they wielded their twin scimitars, they would tie it up as they had when they were dressed in purple—this time, though, the strips of cloth they used were bejeweled.

Nabooru, the leader of the Gerudo, wore whatever she so pleased, but her second-in-command, Chandra, wore rich green with jewelry on her forehead, in her hair, and around her neck. Her gauntlets were green, but she bothered with politics, rather than stealing and fighting.

Then there were a select few girls who were, just maybe, even more important than Chandra herself. These were the King's mistresses. Their faces were unbound, and they were just as beautifully jeweled. They could fight, as traditionally, the King would often watch his favorite mistresses battle each other for sport. No harm would befall either, however, as it wasn't unheard of for one girl to sabotage another's beauty out of jealousy.

Their clothing was similar to the second in command's, but with a lighter, finer material. They wore elbow length gloves rather than gauntlets, and their hair fell to the smalls of their backs unbound. They were pampered, but they could care for themselves; no King would ever have it any other way.

It was this carefully tailored ensemble that Isoke looked upon with a great lead ball of worry in her stomach.

"Nalini?" she called hesitantly.

"What is it, Isoke?" her best friend answered, her tone filled with impatience.

"I feel rather faint."

"That's to be expected. Put your head between your knees and I'll be in to help you dress in a moment." Isoke did as she was told and inhaled deeply, gulping down air; it was a matter of moments before she got the hiccups. Nalini rolled her eyes in amused disdain and joined her friend. "Honestly, Isoke. It's not all that terrible," she cooed, rubbing her back.

"You've been Ganon's mistress for two years now, Nalini. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm just graduating from a thief today."

"But you've been preparing for this, haven't you?" Isoke nodded slowly as her friend stroked her hair soothingly. "Come now; let's get you into these clothes."

One dizzy spell later, Isoke was dressed beautifully in her new clothing and was running her fingers nervously through her hair. "You're certain I'll be good enough…?"

Nalini merely waved her hand dismissively and pushed her out of her bedchambers and into the corridor of the Fortress. The two women dressed in purple looked her over and whispered to each other, claiming they remembered when Isoke, now seventeen, was naught but a toddler. How she had grown! they whispered, leading her along the hall.

Isoke tried to ignore them as other girls—there were seven in all, including herself and Nalini—began to follow them. Nalini walked behind Isoke and to her left, her gorgeous eyes catching Isoke's gaze. "You'll be fine," she murmured in her ear, planting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Isoke touched the other girl's slender fingers and smiled half-heartedly, then turned to the front. She heard the last two girls, the twin sisters Ambika and Messina, joined their line. They would enter Ganon's chambers and they would join him to watch some of the artistic civilians dance for him. Normally, of course, it would be his mistresses who danced, but Ganon had expressed his interest in watching something new for this evening's entertainment.

Nabooru was not at the Fortress—nor would she ever be again, the Gerudo expected; she was the Sage of Spirit and had a hand in opposing Ganondorf. She was an exile now. Where she once would have sat, Chandra took her place. She leaned over to Ganon, who sat rather slumped in his throne, and murmured something in his ear. Isoke was a little put off by the murmuring that seemed to follow her everywhere, but she just lifted her chin and tried to look confident.

She wasn't sure how she was to accomplish this, as she felt awful on the inside. She loved Ganon, like most Gerudo did, and she always would, but … he unsettled her. The sheer power he commanded frightened her. She felt a little tension from the other girls behind her, finding relief in the common discomfort.

Ganon perked up and met her gaze steadily; she felt herself trembling, and hoped that she would compose herself before she reached him. Chandra was standing now and ready to address her people.

"Silence!" The crowd quieted, with only a murmur here or there coming up in giddy disobedience. "All of you must be overjoyed to see your King seated upon his throne once more!" Cheers filled the chambers, making Isoke flinch. Chandra continued, "And you will all be greatly pleased to join us in watching the dancers as we feast tonight!" The cheers grew louder.

Chandra looked pleased with herself and nodded before sitting once more, touching Ganon's arm lightly with the tips of her fingers. The Gerudo King said nothing, but his eyes scanned the faces of his mistresses. As he motioned to them to move forward, Nalini rested her hand against Isoke's lower back, giving her a small push. The girls all settled on the soft, brightly coloured pillows surrounding Ganon's throne. A few snuggled in close to him, singing him praise and gratitude at his return to power.

Isoke and Nalini, however, settled comfortably together and put one other girl between his thigh and themselves. His eyes met Isoke's nonetheless and he tilted her chin up gently. "You… You're new, aren't you?" Isoke forced herself to meet his gaze briefly. Now that she was closer, she noticed he was strangely… warm. Perhaps not compassionate, by far, and she knew what he was capable of, but he wasn't a heartless being at all.

"Yes, Sir. This is my first day as a mistress," she squeaked, shifting.

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes taking in her slender, toned body. "How old are you, girl?"

"I've just recently turned seventeen," she answered, finding herself wishing to press her face affectionately into his large hands.

"Hmm." Again he fell silent, caressing her chin with the calloused pad of his thumb. "Your name?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand.

"Isoke, Sir."

"Good." She looked at him questioningly, noting the hardness in his orange eyes, and let her hands cover his absently. "It's a good name," he continued, then pulled away from her to settle against the back of his throne.

Nalini nudged her friend and leaned in close, her hot breath tickling her ear. "You're trembling." Isoke looked at her, frowning.

"I am not," she hissed back.

Nalini smiled and pat her hand. "I suppose it happens to everyone. He's … interesting, to say the least," she whispered. "There's just something about him," she continued, rather nonchalantly.

The dancers began pouring into the room, parting the crowd of women serving the wine and food (Isoke registered then that she was famished, having not eaten the day before for fear of not being able to keep anything down), and the music began to play. The torches hung on the walls of the Fortress had more fatty oil poured on them, to increase the flame; the women watching the torches were very careful while performing this task, naturally. The stone walls glowed merrily in the night, and the fire danced as if joining in the celebration.

Isoke also cuddled closer to Ganon, nearly leaning her torso against his knee—with legs as long as his, she wasn't at all surprised—and watched the women dressed in scarves and skirts covered in gold coins. She supposed she would dance for the King one day just as these women were, and the thought both terrified and excited her.

Perhaps she would find some happiness in this "slavery," after all.

* * *

Chandra watched Ganon remove his clothing from the doorway to his bedchambers. "My King, I'm still not sure I understand how you were able to escape the Sacred Realm," she said, wrapping her arms around her stomach loosely. 

"Neither do I," he admitted. "But that wretched Phantom of mine finally proved to be of _some _use."

"You spoke to him?" the second-in-command asked, approaching the Gerudo King.

"Of course, you fool," he snarled. "You think I would accept my escape so easily? Those damned Sages," his fist clenched and his jaw tightened in fury. "Their magic is not so pitiful that it would be an easy feat to release me," he spat. "That phantom made no sense as to how he managed it."

"And the beast?"

"What of it?"

"It is rumored it possesses magic," Chandra said, examining her nails in a bored manner.

"Feh. That _thing_? Perhaps. But I don't know why I should care if it does. All it seems to do is follow the phantom around like a lost puppy. It's worthless to me," Ganon said, turning to gaze out the window of his chamber. "All that matters now is making _sure _the loyalty of the people is still mine to command."

"Yes, my King."

"Anyone found guilty of treason is to be hanged, you understand?" Chandra nodded as she moved next to him, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. He shrugged her hand off and glared down at her. She met his gaze, unfazed, and he grunted at her. "Don't touch me," he mumbled, looking back out into the cold desert sands.


	3. Wheelbarrows in the Library

**Disclaimer:** Man, it'd be neat if I owned Zelda. So, umm, I'll trade my respiratory tract infection for it.

**Author's Notes:** So, obviously I got somewhat lazy in writing, but now that I have the abovementioned problem with my lungs, I've had some time to sit down and write and plot out things. Go me, I suppose.

**Inbetween Days:** Wheelbarrows in the Library

Ganon frowned down at his phantom. It was true the being spoke a language he had never heard before, but he could understand him nonetheless. "You're saying a _tree _brought you back from Other Realm?" he asked. So far, everything he said was said slowly, as if this would help the phantom understand him.

"Yes," he answered excitedly.

"A tree. And how, pray tell, did a tree overpower my magic that bound you there?" The phantom stared blankly for a moment, and then shrugged. Ganon didn't regret much in his life; in fact, he could count off his regrets on one hand.

One finger would go up for that time he provoked cuccos at age five and broke his arm running from them. His mother sobbed and scolded him furiously for the week he was laid up in bed to recover.

Another was for the time, when he was just discovering what that peculiar (but pleasant) tingling in his groin meant, he slept with that archer; she was perhaps eighteen at the time, and he was four years younger. He didn't even know her name; she was whipped the next morning and thrown in the dungeons, where she hung herself with her bed sheets within the year. Of course, not knowing her name and her "untimely" demise were hardly the regretful parts of that encounter. She had been _terrible _in bed. Very noisy, too.

The third finger went up for not killing the Hero of Time the first time he had gotten the chance.

The fourth for allowing that filthy traitor, Zelda, to live.

And, as of now, the last finger gnawed at him most passionately. He should have given the phantom some kind of intelligence.

* * *

"Well, Blaz, I think you're perfectly pleasant," Isoke whispered playfully. The great Ganondorf and his phantom had visited the beast a few days ago, and the phantom had been chatting away in a language she didn't understand. Ganondorf seemed to comprehend his babbling, however, as on occasion, he would interject a half-hearted "Yes," "All right," "Really?" "Uh huh," or just a soft grunt. Once, though, he pat the creature on the muzzle, then looked curiously down at the phantom. 

"You named it Blaz?" Phantom Ganon had nodded, earning a sigh and a shrug from the Gerudo King, then the grunting began again.

Blaz murred at Isoke as she pet his side. He was a much better conversationalist than the horses he now stayed with. He slept outside the stables near the archery grounds, and paid the other animals no mind.

"You know, everyone says you're just a stupid beast, but I hardly believe that," Isoke continued. Blaz seemed to agree to this with an indignant snort. "Exactly," she giggled. She leaned in closer, scratching above his eye crest just as he liked. "You must promise not to tell anyone," she whispered, "But I believe that the great Ganondorf gives too little credit to the phantom. He might not be the best thinker out of all of us, Blaz, but he's certainly clever."

Blaz offered no speculation; he grumbled in a non-committal manner then pulled away to curl up in his sleep spot.

* * *

Two of Ganon's mistresses huddled together in the library. The shelves and rows of old books, some written in Common tongue, most written in the language of the Gerudo, seemed to go on endlessly, and the warm rays of sun illuminated the titles of various volumes as it spilled in through the windows. 

Hanging above the fireplace—which went unused except for chilly nights—was a large portrait of Ganondorf, and on either side were pictures of his mothers. To the left were the witches, Koume and Kotake, who raised him and honed his magical talents. To the right, however, was his birthmother, Genet.

Genet had been a wonderful woman, if not a little too protective of her son. She would sit Ganon's friends down some nights, and tell them stories of the Zoras or the Gorons until they drifted off to sleep and she tucked them neatly into bed.

But, of course, when Koume and Kotake decided she was too softhearted to raise their next King, they brainwashed her, drove her to insanity, and then killed her. Even though it was technically a form of treason, many of the older women in the Fortress—the ones lucky enough to have known Genet—adored her and blocked her last dying days from their minds. Instead, they focused on her shining, bright eyes, her compassionate smile, and her long, flowing hair. Genet always let the girls play with her hair, as if she was their personal doll.

She had been very popular for her personality, not because she had given birth to the next King. Unfortunately for the Gerudo, who still mourned her silently on the anniversary of her death, this was not enough to keep the kind woman alive.

This also did not keep Ganon's most loyal followers from despising her, either.

True to tradition, the King's mistresses were often the most educated in the Gerudo tribes. Also true to an unspoken tradition between those two mistresses huddled together, there was nothing but complete silence in the room…until one of them grew bored.

"I don't get it."

"You don't get it?"

"No. I don't see any hidden meaning to this Goron trash, and I think you're only trying to drive me insane by making me read it."

Ambika sighed as her sister pouted, and the older girl brushed her fingers through her bangs. "That's the point," she argued.

"What point?"

"Here, look; we're looking at a poem about Goron tools, are we not?" Messina nodded, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Do you even know what a wheelbarrow _is?_" the elder girl enquired.

"I think so," Messina admitted.

"Forgive me, sister, I had nearly forgotten how opposed to work you are," Ambika teased, and Messina let out an indignant 'humph.' Ambika grabbed a loose piece of paper and dipped her quill—really, it was just a plain white feather plucked from a cucco, and belonged to the library; Ambika's quills were all of a much finer quality—into the small inkwell sitting beside her.

"Of course, this is only a rough sketch of what wheelbarrows look like, and I'm not bothering to let the ink dry properly, so you'll have to use some of that imagination of yours." At this, Messina perked up. She always enjoyed playing games with her dolls and friends that made use of her imagination, but got so few chanced to use it anymore.

Ambika wished some of her creative inclination had extended itself to working on analyzing poetry, but no one was perfect, she supposed. "Here," she said again, pointing to the sloppy, messy picture of the wheelbarrow. "Now look at the poem again."

Messina did as she was told, but succeeded only in chewing her lip. "I still don't see anything."

Ambika propped her chin up in her hands and went back to her own studying. After just a moment, she gathered her books and inkwell, then moved to an area with better lighting to start writing her analysis of the work.

* * *

Three Gerudo women stood before the gathered tribe, motionless on a stage. The hangman's noose hung around each of their necks, and their hands were bound in front of them. The woman in the middle was sobbing pitifully, but the other two stood their ground even as the other tribes members shouted threats and leered at them. 

This continued for a moment as Ganondorf made his way, cloak billowing behind him in the wind, to the stage. The din immediately morphed to cheering and whistling, just as it had during Ganon's welcoming feast.

The Gerudo King raised his large hand, and his people quieted down. "These women have committed treasons against your King." The Gerudo sneered hatefully, their eyes alight with animosity towards these women. "They _opposed _me when I returned, claiming I am not fit to rule. This behavior will not be tolerated!" Ganon announced, his hand gripping the lever that would drop the women's footing out from under them. Gerudo cheered again, then quieted. "If I am to once again take control of Hyrule and bring order to this kingdom, I must have the full loyalty of my people. Anyone found to be consorting with the Hero of Time-" Ganon's stomach turned as this name passed his lips. "-Will be jailed, beaten, and then hanged. These women are the first of the traitors; pray to the Goddesses they are the last."

Ganon's wrist twitched and the holes beneath the women opened. The sobbing woman's neck snapped, but the other two suffocated, their feet kicking as they died. The cheering was at its loudest.


End file.
